Harry Potter and Destiny
by MilanGulsar
Summary: The final Harry Potter book. Horcrux searching, the duels that will decide the fate of the Wizarding community, the reprieves, last minute romance, and the final deaths. Read and review!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Why would I write fanfiction if I had owned Harry Potter? I would've been far too busy writing the real 7th book. **

**Um…you see guys, I have been playing around with this idea for a while now. I wasn't sure whether I should write about it or not because I have seen many other authors dwelling along the same lines, the seventh book. But then again, every author has a unique perspective and I thought maybe I would just give my concept a chance to be born. _Please Read and Review! _**

**Harry Potter and Destiny**

By MilanGulsar

**Chapter 1: A Trance **

A strong, cool breeze blew towards the north, making the blossoming green trees around the Burrow sway dangerously from side to side; the sky was concealed behind a gray veil of ominous clouds that stretched across the horizon. An enormous shadow of the shaggy building that the Weasleys called their home was cast diagonally across the lawn in which countless gnomes ran about merrily, looking complacent under the shade's false security. The weather was very dismal indeed—so dismal in fact, few would guess that it was the first day of summer vacation.

To the young man who sat silently in the Weasley's living room, gazing out from the front side window, the weather was a perfect manifestation of the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Thinner than ever before, the black-haired and bespectacled Harry Potter mulled over the latest events that besieged the Wizarding community—events that would forever change the lives of everyone, and in particular, his life.

He would not have been here at the Burrow (the closest thing he had to a home) so early, had it not been for the murder of Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the most powerful wizard in recent history, and the only one whom Lord Voldemort, the darkest and most menacing wizard of all time, had feared. Dumbledore had been a close friend of Harry and their bond had remarkably strengthened over the past year that they had spent at the school. Together, they had embarked on a journey to destroy the Dark Lord—the one who was so feared that few found the courage to utter his name. Now, the voyage they had started on together, he Harry Potter, would have to finish alone.

He wasn't quite sure what he was called these days. Ever since he had been born and singled out by Voldemort as the one who would one day destroy him (or be destroyed by him), he had been called names. Last time he had checked, he had been dubbed as "the Chosen One." He didn't quite protest against this particular name as he had done to the many others because he did feel chosen—chosen to suffer and watch his loved ones fall one after another. He had suffered since the age of one—starting with Voldemort's murder of his parents. Though Harry himself had been the real target, the killing curse that had been cast at him had rebounded on the Dark Lord, leaving Voldemort utterly weakened. Although some believed that he had actually died, wise wizards like Dumbledore had known better. In fact, Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts had been marked by his direct confrontation with the Dark wizard, who had grown back his body right in front of Harry's eyes.

Only a year after his full-fledged return, Voldemort had greeted Harry with another murder—this time his godfather, Sirius Black. To Harry, Sirius had been a savior, an extension outside of his life at Hogwarts and the terrible summers that he had to spend at the Dursleys. Sirius too had felt a strong attachment to him—it had been like a father and son relationship. Without his parents, Sirius had been his closest friend—a substitute father. Then, a band of detestable Death Eaters, servants of Lord Voldemort, had killed him…killed half of Harry's life with him. Even the thought of it choked him.

And now, his last and most powerful protector, Albus Dumbledore, the one who had been so patient with him, who had on countless occasions endured his silly paroxysms of anger, who had guided and cared for him…who had…had…done so many things for him that listing them, even in his head, would be a foolish undertaking, had been killed. The feeling of loss—or more so, the realization that he would never see Dumbledore again, created such a vacuum in his chest that he felt he might be sucked into it. The pain and grief that suddenly overtook him was irresistible—a tear escaped his watery green eyes and trickled down his cheek.

He was brought to his senses by the tear's tickling sensation and quickly wiped it off with his sleeve, hoping against hope that none in the room had noticed the incident. Almost immediately, his fears were answered.

"Harry, are you all right?" Hermione, who was sitting on the sofa opposite him, asked in a concerned tone. Both were waiting to make phone calls to their Muggle guardians with the phone that Mr. Weasley was attempting to connect since breakfast to tell them that school had closed early due to special circumstances.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry lied, suddenly feeling like he had been sitting on a radiator; his cheeks felt as though they had reached boiling point. Worse, Hermione seemed to have noticed.

"Shall I get you a drink?" she offered kindly.

"No, I'll be okay," Harry replied and a tinge of irritation involuntarily escaped him. Hermione picked up on it and went quiet.

For several long minutes, an awkward silence fell between them. The only noise came from Ron's room across the hall, where Mr. Weasley was working to fix the phone line. Harry, feeling a bit out of proportion, considered going to him and helping him out, but thought better of the idea when, without warning, Ron, Fred and George burst through the door.

"Harry!" Fred said excitedly, "How's it going man?"

"Er…fine, you?" said Harry.

"Really good—business is booming you know!" Fred said.

"Yea, latest magic-technology is really popular," George added matter-of-factly, putting his enchanted watch on the table. Harry wasn't quite familiar with the term however, and a quizzical look spread on his face.

"You know I think we brought some of the protego-bracelets with us, right Geroge?" Fred asked, taking off his socks and tapping them with his wand. They became instantly clean.

"Yea…" George fumbled in his pocket, taking out two shiny bracelets. "These are permanently charmed with the protego spell," he explained as Harry and Hermione gave surprised looks.

"You mean to say that if you wear one of them, and someone throws a curse at you, you won't have to deflect it?" Hermione said, clearly impressed.

"Exactly! Hermione is catching on is she!" Fred said mockingly, and held out one of the bracelets. "Want one?"

"No thanks. I prefer to do the shield charm with my wand. Umm…and I'm not sure those will hold for too long."

"Harry, you have one then," Fred threw one to Harry.

"Not accepting no for an answer!" George added, noticing Harry's reluctant look.

"Right…er…thanks," Harry muttered.

"Don't worry mate. You can throw it out once they're out of the room," said Ron, moving from behind the twins and taking a seat next to Hermione.

"Did you guys know Lupin, Tonks, and Kingsley are here?" asked George quitting his business talk and very suddenly looking a bit concerned about something.

"No," Hermione answered, surprised. "When did they come?"

"A little after breakfast. They're downstairs chatting with Fleur and mom," Fred said casually, hanging his black-dragon skin coat and moving towards the door after George. Just as they were about to step out, the latter turned and added on a side note:

"By the way guys, if you're interested in some candy—we bought a whole lot from our shop."

"Wait George!" Harry said after a moment of thought. But it was too late—the twins had already disappeared behind the door and could be heard clambering down the stairs. "Dammit!" he said in a disappointed whisper.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron asked.

"Nah, nothing…just wanted to ask them….um…if they had any of that instantaneous darkness powder thingy," Harry said surreptitiously, and immediately realized he had said too much.

"What's your plan Harry?" Hermione asked, looking and sounding thoroughly worried.

"Well, you know, its good to have some for emergency situations," said Harry trying to evade explaining his real intentions. "And such situations can occur anytime nowadays."

"No I'm sure that's not why you wanted the powder," Hermione looked at him directly in the eye. Since when did she learn legilimency?

"Yea, that's sounds like a pretty stupid excuse to me too," Ron pressed. "I mean who would want to start fighting in the darkness. You'd be putting yourself in greater danger wont you?"

"Er…okay I'll tell you what," Harry realized that he would not get anywhere if he didn't explain to his friends. "I think the Order is here to protect me again. It's stupid, you know. I need room to maneuver if I want to find the Horcruxes. If they start guarding me, I can't possibly have that room."

"So you plan to make a grand Malfoy-style escape from the grasps of the Order do you?" said Ron while Hermione gave a look of disgust.

"Well yeah," Harry tried to sound nonchalant. "The fight is between me and Voldemort now, not Voldemort and the Order. That's too risky anyway—I don't want to see more deaths. I've had enough."

"And you think you'll single handedly defeat Voldemort—Ron enough of your wincing! It's Ridiculous! Get a grip!—Harry?" Hermione seemed incredulous.

"You know perfectly well that that's not what I meant Hermione," Harry was slightly angered and didn't bother to control its flow in his voice.

"Whatever you do mate," Ron said, looking serious, "you're not leaving us behind. Hermione and I will come with you, whether you're going after Voldemort or the Horcruxes."

Harry felt deeply moved to hear that he was not without friends. It seemed to be a realization he had not had for the past few days. Not to mention, he was surprised that Ron had said the Dark Lords name.

"And Secondly," Hermione jumped in, "The Order of the Phoenix has highly trained Aurors. Learning from them will strengthen us greatly—especially in our search for the Horcruxes. Your plan to get rid of the Order's guards is rash, Harry."

"Yeah…even Dumbledore came out weak, didn't he? And that was only one Horcrux," Ron added, sounding slightly afraid of the truth he had uttered.

Harry felt a flood of uncertainty engulf him and looked away from them. True, he had many things to learn—occlumency for one. He had yet to master nonverbal spells, too. These skills had proven to be significant in his fight against Snape only three days ago. Had it not been for their lacking, Harry was sure he could have killed the traitor and avenged Dumbledore's murder. Moreover, he wasn't even planning to go back to Hogwarts for the seventh year; he would have to acquire his skills from elsewhere.

But then again, anyone who helped or loved him had almost always been killed. Not for a moment did he doubt that if some member of the Order undertook the task of teaching him, another loss would soon accost him—Voldemort would warrant as much. Harry was certain that madness would grip him if that happened. He did not want to risk the lives of others anymore, or for that matter, risk suffering, himself, from the agonizing grief caused by another death. Where he knew that Voldemort had physically split his soul into seven horcruxes, the Dark Lord was certainly doing a good job ripping apart Harry's soul—emotionally at least—into countless smithereens.

Perhaps he had been debating for too long with himself because when he looked up, he found that Ron and Hermione had taken the opportunity to embrace each other; their mouths were firmly interlocked. It had been only yesterday that they had clearly expressed their love for each other. And now their new found affection was in full "corporeal" expression, thought Harry. Their snogging lasted for far longer than he would have expected—given his presence. Not quite sure about what to do, he quickly decided to walk over to the window, wishing that his friends would watch out for their own privacy. But a feeling of guilt stole through him at these thoughts as he recalled the time when he had kissed Ginny in front of the entire Gryffindor common room. That had not been a very confidential location. Not to mention, he was in such close terms with Ron and Hermione that he knew his presence did not always register as impersonal.

He had just begun observing the lawn below when suddenly the door to the room burst open once more with a tremendous _clunk_. Ron and Hermione jumped apart looking very guilty. Ron had gone bloody red.

"I've got it guys! It's all connected!" exclaimed a jubilant Arthur Weasley, standing fixed in the doorway trembling from his excitement and not taking any notice of the scene he had just disrupted. The older, red haired and loving Mr. Weasley had always had a passion for muggle artifacts and when Harry and Hermione, both of whom had lived in muggle homes, offered to help him with the phone line, he had insisted that he be let alone to do it.

"Believe me…," Mr. Weasley added on a side note, "all those hours of work…couldn't have gone for nothing could they?" He seemed enormously relieved.

"Thanks a lot Mr. Weasley," Hermione said kindly, her blushed cheeks disappearing behind a broad grin. Harry too nodded his appreciation, not in the mood of talking.

"I'll come with you," Hermione added.

"And Harry?" Mr. Weasley asked, as though eager to show off his achievement. "Aren't you commin?"

"Yeah…but I'll wait here 'til Hermione is finished—unless…um…you feel otherwise," Harry replied. He preferred a bit of isolation for now, badly needing time for the many thoughts that occupied his mind.

"Whatever you please, Harry," said Mr. Weasley said in a tone that indicated that he understood. He and Hermione turned and left.

Ron, who had been standing still and shooting furtive glances at Mr. Weasley all this time, gave a sigh of relief as the door closed behind them. His ghastly red appearance seemed to abate a little.

"Dad doesn't have to know yet," he said quietly.

Harry didn't know what to say and decided to remain silent.

"It's almost lunch time, Harry. Mum says the decorations for the wedding will begin immediately afterwar's," said Ron after a few moments, changing the subject.

"Oh…right…I almost forgot," Harry said, suddenly remembering his purpose for being at the Burrow in the first place. "They're gonna need our help, I think. I'ma have a hard time with that Fleur around."

Although Fleur Delacour, Bill's fiancée, was a burning beauty, she was exceptionally talkative and condescending towards those who were younger than her. Ron, who had always had a soft spot for her since their first meeting, blinked several times at Harry's remark.

"Yeah well, she's not going to be here for much longer anyway. Bill says he's bought a building near the Gringotts headquarters in Egypt. She's gonna leave with him of course," Ron seemed disappointed at his own observation.

"I'm sure Ginny and Hermione will be pleased," Harry mused. Ron paced uncomfortably.

"So long as Hermione's pleased," he muttered.

"Ooh…Ron's got a plan in mind, does he?" Harry suddenly felt a little cheery, now that the conversations had moved themselves from awkward, serious and sad subjects—to something more friendly and teasing-like.

"Harry, I'm going down to get some food from the kitchen. Getting hungry—it was a long journey in Diagon Alley," said Ron, suddenly looking exhausted and apparently desiring to bring an end to the discussion that put him in a spotlight. Harry had nearly forgotten that Ron and twins had indeed been out shopping for the wedding at Diagon Alley since breakfast.

"Go ahead…I'll come after I make that phone call, mate," said Harry, mildly disappointed that their chat had come to such an abrupt end.

He walked back to the sofa and took a seat while Ron made his way across the room towards the door. The beauty and perfection of the nearby tree seemed immensely satisfying and Harry found himself observing it for several seconds before he heard the door close behind Ron.

The clicking noise of the door seemed foreign to him however. He felt a drowsiness suddenly overcome him—a strange feeling. He wasn't sleepy and hadn't even felt the slightest tinge of sleep touch him for the past few days. Not to mention, he had been perfectly awake just a few seconds ago when he had been talking with Ron—this was utterly eccentric. All of his control over his body was ebbing—rapidly. His vision blurred and the tree he had been observing disappeared behind a misty mosaic created by his unfocused eyes. He was fighting now—struggling to pull himself out of this…whatever it was. He willed his eyes to open, and found he could not do it. He dared himself to look at the faint glint of the sun that was still present despite the mild weather—but his eyelids remained tightly locked. What was this? A force he could neither command nor control.

Yelling several times, he attempted to stretch his legs, to punch the air in front of him, to sit up. But none of these things happened. Then very abruptly, his thoughts became fuzzy—and he found himself struggling to think of the present. Then darkness surrounded him—his mind went blank.

The appearance of a blazing light jerked him from his blankness—his drowsiness a thing of the past. His eyes flew open—but only to find ubiquitous rays of light beaming at him from all directions. They were beginning to spin from what he perceived to be its center and the spinning was gaining speed. His body too began to swirl with it.

As suddenly as they had appeared, the fiery lights went out. And through the darkness Harry fell into the void of which he conceived no end, with clenched teeth and shaking fists.

_Thud!_

He was so shaken from his traumatic ordeal that he did not recognize where he had landed. He was still clutching onto his throat, through which he was sure that his heart would have leaped out if his fall had been prolonged, when he saw the portraits of the Hogwarts headmasters. As his senses cleared up, he noticed the whirring and puffing of silvery instruments that lay scattered about the room. _Dumbledore's office. _

Harry pulled himself to his feet, unsure of how he had managed to get to Hogwarts and how he would return. Still dazed, he stood still for several long minutes—not knowing what to do. Finally deciding that his legs might give away underneath him, he walked staggeringly to the nearby chair and sat down—hoping to calm his dizziness and think out a way from this place.

As soon as he sat down however, and as strangely as was this entire predicament, the door to the office flew ajar. Harry was totally taken aback, not only by the door's opening but by the very sight that now stood before him. He was quite sure Dumbledore was dead, and looked back at the walls to make sure that his portrait was still there. Sure enough, there sat a Dumbledore on the wall, looking at him serenely from above his spectacles.

But there fixed in the frame of the door, stood another Dumbledore, fully alive, looking powerful as ever, with shining blue eyes, smiling peacefully at him in greeting. The calm yet welcoming expression mixed with the knowledge that Dumbledore was actually dead, sent a chill down Harry's spine. He was so bewildered, he lost his voice.

"I see you have kept my appointment, Harry," Dumbledore greeted him, the smile on his face broadening as though he had expected this all along.

"Um…Professor Dumbel-ddo-dor," Harry croaked. He couldn't say much and was still trying to decide what was happening. How was Dumbledore dead and alive at the same time?

"No, No. I am dead alright," said the professor, reading Harry's thoughts. He moved behind his desk and proceeded to take a seat. "This is not the time to discuss that however."

"We have more important concerns at this time, Harry," Dumbledore continued, reaching into his cloak pocket for something. "Forgive me, but I'll have to begin this discussion without much introduction."

Harry was too bemused to say anything.

"In our search for Voldemort's fourth horcrux, Harry, we instead discovered this fake locket," Dumbledore held up the object he had procured from his pocket.

To Harry's amazement, it was indeed the fake locket that he and the professor had painfully acquired three days ago from Voldemort's hiding place. He had had the impression that it was in his, Ron's and Hermione's possession now and was puzzled by how Dumbledore had gotten it. He suddenly remembered that the professor had himself confirmed that he was dead and decided that his conclusion that Dumbledore was holding the actual locket was silly. This must be some sort of a vision or something of the sort.

"But fortunately, I did not pay my life for nothing. The note inside this fake locket, Harry, is of enormous importance—a clue perhaps to the Horcrux that you and I were unsure of," Dumbledore looked thoughtful and added in a lighter tone, "the one that we could not identify as the fourth horcrux Harry."

"And of course," he continued after a moments pause, "the real locket that was supposed to be in place of this fake one has been destroyed."

Harry's curiosity now overwhelmed his other concerns.

"But sir, the only word we have for that is the note in the locket you're holding," Harry said dubiously, completely forgetting about the strangeness of the entire situation. "How can we trust it?"

"Good question, very good indeed, Harry," said Dumbledore. "As you may recall from study of Voldemort's life, he was extremely confident about his skills. He would never bother to apply his entire magical prowess only to hide something that was of no value to him."

"So from that, we may deduce that the note here is sincere because there was indeed a horcrux in this place. R.A.B here would not lie about such an accomplishment as overcoming Voldemort's defenses. Not to mention, I'm fairly certain R.A.B is indeed dead because otherwise he would not have taken the risk of bragging about his success—because Voldemort would have made sure he was killed anyway, Harry."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, a satisfied expression on his face, looking at Harry over his half-moon spectacles.

"Do you reckon you know who this R.A.B is, Professor?" Harry asked, keen now.

"I have my suspicions Harry," Dumbledore said in an almost self-deprecating tone. "But as I have proven by trusting Snape, my feelings and judgments could be wrong. Losing my touch, as many would put it."

"A single mistake out of the countless decisions you made to save the Wizarding world is not a bad record professor," Harry urged. Dumbledore smiled again, looking moved.

"I see you've not lost your faith in me, Harry," Dumbledore said softly.

"Of course I haven't. Remember? I'm Dumbledore's man through and through." Harry smiled slightly as he recalled his conversation with Rufus Scrimgour, the minister of magic, from a few months previously. For a few moments there was silence, but not an uneasy one. The old professor seemed too touched to speak.

"Thank you, Harry, Thank you," he said finally.

"You may confide your suspicions to me, Professor. I'm sure they'll turn out right," Harry pushed on kindly.

"That was the point of this meeting, Harry," Dumbledore looked up, eager to continue. "I wanted you to know that R.A.B may be closer to you than you think. Sometimes Harry, things that we think are complicated are very simple—we overwhelm our senses with complicated solutions so much so that we forget how to look at matters simply."

"You mean to say that this person R.A.B is related to me? I don't understand…um…what you mean by 'closer to me than I think'," Harry was surprised, and looked at Dumbledore inquiringly.

"No not related to you but related to someone you know Harry, or I should say, someone you knew," Dumbledore said, as though challenging him to solve the puzzle. But he was as lost as ever.

"Someone I _knew_? But I _know_ everyone I _knew_?" his face screwed up in concentration and thought. Then the epiphany hit him like an electric shock.

"You think that the 'B' in R.A.B stands for Black?" said Harry, a look of alarm spreading on his face.

"Yes, Harry, yes. Sharp as ever, I see," Dumbledore smiled at him—the same peaceful smile that he had greeted Harry with before the start of this meeting. But this one seemed to indicate quite the opposite—farewell.

"But—" Harry couldn't finish saying, "it can't be!" before he found himself once more losing control of his senses and then abruptly spiraling out of control—the smiling face of Dumbledore pasted in his head.

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**I will try to update within one and a half weeks time. Please Review! Your encouragement and suggestions will definitely help!**


	2. Chapter 2

**I apologize for this delayed update guys. I hope you haven't lost interest in the meanwhile and thanks for waiting patiently. **

**Farida: Thanks for everything!**

**Moriah: Your suggestions are excellent. I have tried my best to take them into consideration in this chapter. Thanks!**

**AnonyMouse: I'm really sorry for the late update. Unanticipated circumstances forced so much work onto my shoulders that I could hardly find time to write. Thanks for taking your time to review though and for your patience till now.**

**Naharissya: The wedding is being hurried because, although Dumbledore died a mere three days ago, life has to continue—especially, because the threat of Voldemort is so great. Moreover, we cannot forget that Harry's magical protection will lifted on his seventeenth birthday, which is rapidly approaching. Much needs to be done before that—so life is really on fast forward now. Thanks for your review, and I love your suggestions. Don't worry about making your reviews long because the more substance in a review, the better and more useful the review is, right? Thanks again!**

**Rasal: R.A.B is in the sixth book, near the end. Thanks for reading and I'm glad you understand my story.**

**All the rest of you have my special thanks for reviewing!**

**Chapter 2: The Wedding**

Next morning was busier than any Harry had had so far at the Burrow. Friends of the Weasleys began to arrive early in the morning and were creating a big fuss about the wedding—plundering about the house that had only moments ago been finely decorated. Harry, Hermione and Ron had been appointed as the maintenance squad; they rushed about muttering charms that replaced flowers in their now empty buckets, that made the spilled water disappear, and countless other pieces of adornments to repair themselves. There was so much to do that Harry completely forgot about his unusual experiences from the day before.

It was indeed a great achievement for all of them to finally get to the breakfast table. Mrs. Weasley, who had earlier panicked about possible food shortages, had spread all the food and managed, by persistent and painful requests, to settle down all the guests at the table (The table, which might not have accommodated even six people, had been magically enlarged by Lupin and now comfortably seated at least thirty people). With great difficulty, Harry and Ron had found two empty seats next to each other and took them before anyone else could.

Breakfast went rather quietly. Pumpkin juice was tasty, but not in the morning. The moment Harry had managed to gulp down some of it he felt the urge to throw up. Worse, the atmosphere was very dense with chatter, what with everyone crammed so closely together. Harry felt he needed fresh air as soon as he could finish the juice—which of course would require time. Across him, Ron seemed to have the same impression. With an unpleasant smirk, he swallowed several mouthfuls of flakes and unfortunately, on his fourth serving, another guest tried to reach for a drink across the table and in the process knocked over Ron's plate. Ron gave him an indignant look, got up and left. Still attempting to drink the remainder of his juice, Harry ardently hoped that the place of the wedding would be more commodious.

But as he walked toward the wedding hall several hours later, he began to doubt that the accommodations would be any better. Men from the ministry's Marriage and Divorce Department had come by and set up a "hall" in the middle of the Weasley's Quidditch practice area. In effect however, there stood a shabby and haunted-looking wooden house occupying a very small portion of the field. It appeared so small that it might have been difficult for even a bedroom to fit in it. But the ominous glint that overshadowed the house made it look so unconventional and so eccentric, Harry doubted very much that anyone in their right minds would want even their closet there.

"Wha!" Ron exclaimed once they entered through the doorway. "I was beginning to get depressed by how it looked from outside."

"Ron," Hermione said in a matter-of-fact tone, "we've seen such arrangements at the Quidditch World cup."

Harry simply gazed in wonder. Hermione might be right, but the arrangements in here were really incredible, especially considering how it looked from outside. The light from five magnificent chandeliers illuminated the hall in the most cordial way possible. Intricately designed chairs and tables, made of beautiful mahogany, were spread ubiquitously near the walls. Decorations, predominantly red and yellow in color, outlined the enormous ceiling and enchanted balloons drifted of their own accord from one place to another, as though in a well rehearsed procession. At one end of the hall, the chairs and tables came to an abrupt end, giving away to a dazzling iridescent carpet floor on which colorful lights from a catwalk above bounced about creating a most effervescent effect. The place teemed with hundreds of people, lost in the fury of intimate and innovative dances urged on by the rhythms played by the Harpies.

"Hello, Harry," Harry literally jumped in surprise. Professor Slughorn's sudden greeting was not the only cause; he realized that he had actually walked from the entrance to the table now in front of him without any conscious thought.

"Hi, professor," Harry returned the greeting, recovering from his surprise. Next to him, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks of why-is-Slughorn-here? That wasn't very hard to explain—Slughorn found places at all parties.

"Take a seat Harry," the Professor invited him, smiling and pointing to an empty seat next to himself. "Ron, Hermione, feel free to join us."

"Thank you professor," Hermione offered, looking slightly disappointed. Ron simply muttered under his breath and took a seat next to Hermione and Harry guessed by their reactions that they clearly had no intention to spend any time with a teacher.

They finished several plates of a variety of foods and conversed thoroughly on several subjects, ranging from the last party Harry had attended with Slughorn to the death of Dumbledore, when suddenly a beautiful and slim figured girl in a dazzling dress came sprinting towards them.

"Why are you guys sitting here?" Ginny blurted before she reached the table. Then, suddenly registering Slughorn's presence, she amended politely, "Hello professor, I thought they would like to join the dancing," and pointed toward Ron, Harry and Hermione.

"Sounds fun," Hermione said brightly looking very relieved.

"Ah…yeah I would love to dance," Ron added in spite of the fact that he was a very bad dancer.

"Well of course, fellows! What's better than a joyous dance after such a nice meal?" Slughorn was already on his feet. "But that'll mean that I have to get a partner," he looked pensive, but added, "I'll join you fellows in a moment," and walked off in a hurry.

"Let's get lost before he finds us again, shall we?" Ron said eagerly.

"So you hate him all of a sudden, do you?" Ginny mocked. Harry had lost his voice since her arrival and refrained from saying anything as a result. Hermione seemed to guess as much.

"No, but Ginny, who wants to spend a wedding with a teacher, when the alternative is to spend time among ourselves?" she said, as they started walking toward the dance area. Harry had a fleeting vision of himself dancing with Ginny, but he crushed the feeling immediately.

"Hermione?" Ron asked uncertainly, as they reached the dancing floor and the lights began to shower them randomly.

"Sure," Hermione said, reaching out and taking hold of Ron's outstretched hand. Ginny and Harry were left standing on the side lines as Ron and Hermione disappeared in the crowd. Harry thought he had glimpsed Hermione attempting to fix Ron's movements several times already.

"Ginny?" Harry wasn't sure what he was doing.

"Yes, Harry," Ginny looked over at him, her voice as firm as ever.

"Come," Harry said, extending his arm. There was a smile on her face, a tear trickled down from the corner of her radiant eyes, then her hand was reaching for his and before he had time to realize any of this, he found himself in the middle of a tumultuous dance with her effulgent loveliness beside him, rocked on by the resounding music.

It seemed as though only a few minutes had elapsed before Harry and Ginny were on the sidelines again, utterly exhausted and panting hard.

"But Harry," Ginny said suddenly, a sarcastic tone ringing in her voice. "We can't be together anymore, remember?"

"No, you're right. We can't be together—at least not until Voldemort's gone," Harry raked his brain for an excuse. "But we're not together, Ginny. We were just dancing together, that's all," he said unable to produce anything convincing.

"Ah! There you are!" Professor Slughorn was panting harder than either of them. But the lady next to him was by far a more intriguing sight.

"This here is Les—Mrs. Lemon, fellows," Slughorn continued excitedly.

"Hi," Ginny said cordially. Harry gave her a welcoming smile. Mrs. Lemon seemed too shy to offer anything more than a smile herself, and clung sheepishly on to Slughorn.

"I thought we would get a bit of fresh air folks—been in here for a while now. Care to join us?" Slughorn looked Harry in the eye, expectantly. Ginny gave him a look of hopelessness.

"We'll join you in a bit, professor," Ginny said indecisively.

"Yeah…um…once we catch our breath," Harry confirmed, feigning several large gulps of air. Slughorn looked disappointed but thought better of attempting to persuade them any further.

"Of course," he said with a wave of his hand. "Take your time."

He walked off with Mrs. Lemon still clinging nervously to his hand. Harry gave a sigh of relief; he wanted to spend time with his immediate friends—not a teacher. Why was Slughorn so stuck to him today anyway? Unable to answer, he turned his attention back to the dance.

"Harry," Ginny said softly from beside him. There was urgency in her voice.

"Yeah?" Harry turned to face her.

"Wasn't Professor Slughorn wearing red shoes when we saw him earlier?" Ginny asked.

"Er…yeah, I think so," Harry said trying to remember. He looked about for Slughorn and his partner to confirm his conjecture, but could not find them within his range of vision. They must have gone outside already.

"Well, I just saw him wearing black ones. I mean, he didn't change his clothes or anything else," Ginny observed.

"I doubt he'd have bought an extra pair of shoes for this occasion," Harry said.

"That's suspicious," said Ginny. "Think we should raise the alarm?"

"No, not yet. I mean, Slughorn changing into different shoes is not really impossible is it? No need to make everyone panic just cause we have a whim here."

"We can't just let this go, Harry," Ginny urged on.

"We're not going to, Ginny—under one condition though. You have to let me investigate this alone," Harry said.

"Alone?" Ginny said sardonically. "I'll never let you."

"Well, then we can just ignore the matter," said Harry firmly.

"Really Harry?" Ginny mocked. "You seem like you just don't _me_ to come along."

"I thought we settled this before," Harry said, recalling their conversation from Dumbledore's funeral. A pang of pain shot through him as he was forced to remember the professor's death. "I remember telling you that I don't want to risk anyone anymore," he choked.

"How are you risking my life when we're not even sure this issue is a threat," Ginny pressed on. "If you don't want to come with me Harry, I'll look into this myself."

Ginny was about to walk off but Harry discovered that his hand had suddenly clasped her shoulder, without any conscious effort.

"We'll go together," Harry said, pulling out his invisibility cloak from beneath his robes. He knew that further attempting to persuade her against her will would be futile. The best he could do now was protect her.

"We'll put that on once we reach the entrance to the hall," Ginny said, pointing to the cloak. "People are bound to notice if we just disappear right here."

"But if that wasn't Slughorn, he might've placed booby traps even before we reach the entrance," Harry replied.

"We'll go to the sidelines and put it on, shall we?" Ginny suggested.

"Yeah, good idea," Harry approved.

Having donned the cloak, Harry and Ginny proceeded toward the entrance. The hundreds of people, running about everywhere carelessly, conversing animatedly and knocking over chairs and tables in the meanwhile, slowed their progress. It took nearly ten minutes to reach their destination, by which time, Harry was sure the real Slughorn would have sent someone into the hall urging Harry to come out. But again there was the possibility that he wouldn't have.

The area near the exit was deserted; most of the people were now dancing. Several chairs lay upturned along a table near the door—next to which also were several empty bottles of wizarding drinks scattered across the floor.

Now as Harry stared intently at the door, attempting to discern any signs of a booby trap, he realized for the first time that it was translucent from the inside. In fact, he thought he saw several birds fly by a moment ago.

"Are those shadows from outside, or is this an enchanted screen?" Ginny whispered from beside him, voicing his own concerns.

"I have a feeling that it's enchanted to show the outside," Harry replied.

"So what are we waiting for, Harry?" Ginny asked.

"If Slughorn and Lemon were really waiting to trap us, it wouldn't be wise to go barging through the door," said Harry.

"We're invisible, Harry," Ginny said, as though there was nothing more obvious.

"Exactly, since when did a door open by its own accord?" Harry responded.

"But no one is here to open the door for us, Harry. We'll never get through it," Ginny protested.

"We can create a diversion," Harry tried to sound convincing.

"Or we can just open the door very quietly and step out. No need to complicate everything, really," said Ginny.

"Yeah, that is what you are going to do," Harry replied. "You take the invisibility cloak and open the door. Keep your wand at the ready."

"And you expect to do you usual heroic charge do you?" Ginny sounded incredulous and derisive at the same time.

"But you're coming with me too! If anything, you'll be able to shoot surprise spells from under the cloak," Harry explained. Ginny continued to look at him scornfully. "You know this is a waste of time Ginny," he shoved the cloak aside, slightly irritated at her response. "If you do your part, I will be thankful. But if not, I'll move on by myself."

There was a shuffling noise and before Harry could make any sense of it, the door flung open before him. Recovering from the surprise quickly, Harry whipped out his wand and cautiously peered outside, knowing that Ginny too was doing the same next to him.

Harry carefully observed every part of the Quidditch practice field. He gazed up and down the trees and searched for every slight disturbance in the leaves and every little noise that he could hear. But his results were not satisfying—Slughorn and Mrs. Lemon were not to be seen. Suddenly, the door began to close beside him.

"Ginny?" Harry whispered.

"Stupefy!" came the reply from under the cloak. A jet of red light shot from her invisible wand and headed for a tree straight ahead. The force of the spell made the tree shake so violently that Harry might have concluded, under different circumstances, that it was a whomping willow. He couldn't make out why Ginny had shot the spell though.

Then suddenly, Harry perceived the threat. Behind the tree, a tall bush, green in color, stood wavering incongruously in its place. There was no breeze nearby. More obvious however, was the wand that was mounted on one of the thorn's petals, looking like a moribund twig; it was placed in much the same way Uncle Vernon sometimes pointed his rifle. There was no hand holding it however, or wait! There was the faint outline of a hand—its transparent nature indicated that its owner must have been placed under a disillusionment charm.

Absorbing all this in less than a second, Harry kicked the door aside and ran outside. He had brought Ginny into this! How could he, after all that he had said to her about how he no longer wanted to risk lives?

His move seemed to have boosted the confidence of his adversaries, as they suddenly jumped from behind the thorn. Harry couldn't believe his eyes.

"The famous Potter has fallen for the trick has he?" sneered Bellatrix Lestrange, waving her wand simultaneously to close the door to the hall. The beautiful ornamentations vanished behind it, once again hidden by the ominous walls of a small and dilapidated house.

"No Granger to think for you now, is there Potter?" added Draco Malfoy, smiling with satisfaction. Harry would have loved to punch out all his teeth.

"SECTUM SEMPRA!" he cried, wielding his wand like a sword in front of him.

"Not so fast Potter," Lestrange said in a belittling tone that Harry loathed in every respect. She lazily flicked her wand and blocked the curse as though it had no significant power.

"All you have to do is be the nice and heroic Chosen One that you are," Malfoy smirked, contempt rippling throughout his features and unmistakably resonating from his eyes. "And your tragedy will be read in all wizarding publications from this day and on."

Malfoy's jubilation at the prospect of making fun of Harry with impunity was short-lived however. A sudden flash of silver light hurled from nowhere right into his chest. His hands and legs folded together, his expression went berserk, and with an awkward motion, he collapsed in a heap onto the grassy ground.

Bellatrix was on the move immediately. There was a hint of fear in her eyes—perhaps caused by the knowledge that some invisible presence was firing spells. Harry's plan was working after all.

"That's enough Potter!" she shouted, whipping her wand around and muttering something. A purple light emitted from the tip and soared toward Harry.

"Protego!" yelled Harry. The curse went flying back to Lestrange, who dexterously maneuvered out of its way.

"Stupefy!" Harry shouted, going on the offensive but knowing full well that any curse he said aloud would be easily deflected by the death eater. He concentrated all his attention to perform a SECTUM-SECUMPRA curse nonverbally.

"Impedimenta!" shouted Ginny from behind him, still secure behind the invisibility cloak. Bellatrix just waved her wand lazily once more. Harry was still trying to focus all his attention on the nonverbal curse.

But within these few crucial seconds, Lestrange managed to perform an anti-hex on Malfoy, who immediately got to his feet and brandished his wand. All thoughts of nonverbal spells left Harry's mind at this new threat—and opportunity.

"Levicorpus!" Harry shouted, putting all the will he could muster behind the curse. Malfoy didn't get a chance to utter the curse that he had been on the verge of performing but rather discovered very abruptly that he was in fact hanging up-side-down, wand-less. He groped around for a hold but there was none to be found.

Unfortunately, Harry lost time taking in this rather amusing scene, in which Lestrange, once again proving her speed, performed a counter jinx and placed Malfoy back onto his feet. In another abrupt swoosh, he was beside Bellatrix—who had yanked him there magically.

"Stupefy!" Ginny said in attempt to distract the older death eater. It didn't work however, as Lestrange simply moved aside and let the bolt of red light disappear behind several trees. Then abruptly, Harry heard a shuffle behind him. He turned around just in time to see Ginny trip over a drinking bottle that had been on the ground. The distraction cost him—and Ginny. The force and abruptness with which he was jerked off his feet knocked the breath out of him. Ginny, meanwhile, had tangled up in the invisibility cloak and exposed her head, upon which, Harry witnessed to his horror, Malfoy shot a curse he had never heard before.

He saw the splash of blood on Ginny's face, the sudden whiteness that overcame her eyes, and the intake of a deep breath. But he saw no more. He found himself being compressed into a small tube with Lestrange's hand tightly bound to his own elbow.

Side along apparition.

**Note: I cannot promise quick updates anymore because the school year is approaching—and especially junior year in high school can get pretty intense. I believe my next update can be expected October 1, 2006. **


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